


Illogical Bliss

by Dancing_Adrift



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Feel-good, Gen, Inaugural Fic, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-01 09:48:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4015105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dancing_Adrift/pseuds/Dancing_Adrift
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam Winchester may not have a happy life, but he's learned to appreciate the moments that make him happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Illogical Bliss

**Author's Note:**

> My first complete fic! Nothing too special, but I hope you enjoy it anyway :) Thanks for reading!

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Dancing adrift, the moments are filled with illogical bliss.

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Sam Winchester wouldn't say he's lived a happy life. Just the thought makes him chuckle at the understatement. No, his existence has been about as removed from happy as it can get, for as long as he can remember. Even when he was a child - what ought to be the most carefree years - Sam's life had been riddled with death, and pain, and uncertainty. When he'd been but an infant, his mother was brutally murdered by a powerful demon - and that was only the beginning of young Sam's troubles. Raised to be hunters by their revenge-obsessed father, he and his older brother Dean had been trained at a very early age to hone only what skills they needed to survive; monster-hunting did not allow for such luxuries as 'normalcy', or 'childhood'. And moving from town to town, in the constant search for the demon that had destroyed their family and changed their lives forever, left little time for Sam to make friends, to explore hobbies, or, hell, even to study. Though they often butted heads (especially when it came to 'the family business'), his only constant friend was his brother Dean. Any 'hobbies' Sam developed had to fit well with their mobile lifestyle (like reading), or else they were somehow related to hunting (like the handy skill of lock-picking). And studying was often put on the back burner or abandoned completely when there was research to be done, either in the search for his mother's killer, or on other smaller cases they picked up as they traveled across the country.

Attending Stanford had been Sam's attempt to claim some semblance of normalcy for himself. And, for the majority of his undergraduate studies, he had been pleasantly successful. The few years he'd spent there remained the brightest patch of sunshine in the otherwise dark and stormy narrative that was his life. But Destiny - Fate, the Powers That Be, _God_ \- had had different plans for him, and he abruptly found himself tossed back into the shadows, forced to admit that it was impossible to escape his past, and that, try as he might, he could no longer ignore the demons (both metaphorical and literal) that haunted him. Sam really wishes he could say that leaving college had been his choice; but after being awoken by his girlfriend burning on the ceiling (the EXACT manner in which his mother had also died), any other option had become invalid. He'd joined forces with his brother once again, following the trail left by their father to find the demon responsible for the deaths of their loved ones, and laying waste to any supernatural sons-of-bitches that got in their way.

The road so far has been a rough one, full of unexpected twists and turns that often leave Sam reeling in his seat. The further they travel, the more complicated their mission becomes; the world is ever widening around them, forcibly revealing some of its deepest, most terrible secrets. There are creatures, and spirits, and curses beyond anything Sam could have ever prepared for. There are powerful beings with the ability and intent to manipulate events on an epic scale, both for good and for evil, and, more often than not, the boys find themselves inextricably involved. Dean calls it an 'occupational hazard;' Sam calls it the universe fucking with them. They aren't _always_ collateral damage, but no matter where they go or what they do, the brothers invariably end up battered and scarred somehow.

And it isn't just monsters, evil spirits, and powers of light vs. darkness that they fight. Sometimes they fight with each other, whenever the stresses of traveling together become unbearable, or when the pressure of forces beyond their control manifest in anger and frustration. Adversely, they also fight _for_ each other, desperately, recklessly facing both Heaven and Hell to keep the other alive and _safe_. And, too often it seems, they fight the tendency for evil within themselves, continually wresting the other away from the proverbial edge. Their lives are difficult - a hunter's life is never easy, and theirs even less so - but they fight tooth and nail to ensure that they persevere, living to fight anew every day.

Sam acknowledges that it isn't always so bad. They've killed a lot of monsters, dispatched plenty of evil spirits, and helped an awful lot of people along the way. The brothers have rescued each other more times than they can count. But, despite all the positive aspects of saving the world on a fairly regular basis, Sam still wouldn't describe his life as a happy one. He's suffered more heartache, and loss, and pain than most people would in ten lifetimes. And Dean has too. They've been downright heroes on more than one occasion, but, apparently, karma, or The Force, or whatever entity it is that 'keeps score' out there, has decided that their good deeds could not go unpunished. Maintaining balance in the universe and all that shit, or something. Sam tries not to think too much about it, instead doing his best to accept his life as it is, and to find contentment wherever he can.

Which is how he finds himself now, riding beside his brother in the passenger seat of Dean's Baby, their home, a sleek black '67 Impala. Both windows are rolled down, the warm breeze gently skimming long, sun-kissed strands of Sam's hair across his face. Dean is softly humming along with some classic rock song playing low from the old speakers, a small smile flickering across his lips. Usually the tunes would be cranked to the max; but on days like today, with nothing but open road before them and nowhere for them to be anytime fast, Dean likes to keep the radio quiet, providing a musical backdrop for the companionable silence between the brothers. It's early spring still wherever they are - somewhere in the upper Midwest - and a _beautiful_ day for a drive; the sun beaming down, not one cloud in the almost painfully blue sky, every tree painted in the particular spring-green shade of leaves that have just started to unfurl. They cruise past open fields still too wet for planting, yet smattered in green anyway, tiny buds from seeds leftover from last year's crops pressing hopefully through the earth and seeking the rays of the sun. The world stretches out wide before them, and Dean's eyes gleam in pleasure as his Baby roars cheerfully over the rolling hills of farm country.

Sam may not have a happy life, but he does have a life in which he's learned to cherish the few happy moments. Here on the road with his brother is where he's admitted, finally, that he is meant to be, for better or for worse, come the good _and_ the bad. Today's travels are definitely of the good; pretty soon, they'll come upon some small Midwestern town and stop at some quaint little diner for lunch. Dean especially loves the places that specialize in burgers and malts; Sam secretly does too. Then they'll continue on to the next little town, or until they find one with a cheap motel where they can stay overnight. They'll drive through the night, if they have to - riding under a sky full of stars has its breathtaking moments too - but Sam likes it best when they can have some beers and a game or two of pool at the local bar before crashing in actual beds.

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The brief worry of where they'll sleep that night is chased from Sam's mind as Dean turns up the radio and starts singing in earnest with one of his favorite songs. Sam flashes a brilliant smile at his brother, reveling in the moment, before closing his eyes and resting his head against the well-worn leather seat, savoring the feel of the fresh air and the warm sun against his face. He lets the off-key singing of his older brother wash over him, an oddly beautiful lullaby. Dean's uninhibited, tone-deaf serenading, the perfect weather, and the gentle rumblings of the Impala combine to immerse Sam Winchester in a rare moment of pure happiness, and he drifts peacefully off to sleep.


End file.
